Rooster Poot, USA.

by Ellen in



and i wonder, wonder which one of us
is gonna state the obvious
and i wonder if you already know
that i gotta let you go
i know this ain't the way i planned it
i guess i ain't the great romantic
and i'm not doubling back now
no doubling back
doubling back now
well before i catch you complaining that it hardly rains at all
let me stop to lock the top
for fear of it falling off
my eyes were easily arms are scars of where
the war was waged on
words that we heard as a joke
how did it drown our, love
oh love
when it rains it's sure to pour
but when i look in your eyes
i fear i won't see surprise
that i'm not doubling back

I also love this song, No Doubling Back. It's so good.

Most of the time, I feel really dumb about posting things from my real life and sending them into the internets. However, I usually don't have anything that important to say (unless it's about art, the Holocaust and Jewish things, or my relationship to God. I feel like I've had some experience in these areas of learning and can confidently discuss them without sounding like an idiot. Most of the time.). I use parentheses to further explain myself, ellipses to expand or not use a period, and exclamation points when I'm only REALLY excited. I'd like to think that I more than frequently use correct spelling, grammar, and syntax, but I wouldn't want to say that too loudly in a large crowd, because what if I get something wrong one day (the results of going to an all-girls' school for 14 years. ugh)? Speaking of the all-girls' school, I haven't even been away from it for half of the time that I was there. The effects are still lingering, and I wonder what I'll be like when I'm 32 and have been in the real world as long as I was at the all-girls' school.

Anyway, I am usually really hesitant to write about anything actually pertinent to my life, because it's so much easier (and funnier) to write down all my silly dreams which, although so many have tried to interpret them, have no basis in real feelings or life. Sorry Freud, if you had met me, everyone would have thought you were a crazyman.

I like to write relevant things only when I think I have a soapbox to drag out. Then I can dust it off, hop up on it, clear my throat, and strain my neck to see if anyone is looking at me, anxiously awaiting some revelation that (in my mind) will inspire and provoke.

However, I'm the least provocative human that I know. And more and more so these days, when people actually DO love gay people, when women are ruling parts of the world, and where the arts are being rediscovered as a necessity for life. I like to think I'm different from the general population; but that's no different than everyone else who likes to think he or she is different.

So: I can get over it. I can be over the fact that as many times as I see Better Than Ezra, Kevin Griffin will never pick me out of the crowd because he can just tell I'm different than the other 65475313 screaming blondes. (But this might be a bad example. He actually has picked me out of the crowd for the being the first and loudest to answer a rhetorical question. It was Birmingham, May 2006, and I believe his exact words were, "I want to see you backstage later." He's married. But in every jest lies some truth, no?)

This desire to be different also translates into my relationships. All of the aforementioned should make me more special, right? You should want to spend the rest of your life with me because you can live a life less ordinary with me. You should want to hang out with me all the time because I'm interesting, have weird dreams, and I'm so totally deep. And don't you want to date me because I've had a few serious boyfriends, am still friends with them, but I'm still healing from however we affected each other? You mean, you don't like my baggage? But it's Capri Blue by Vera!

At some point, I think we need to just let go of whatever it is that we feel trapped by. For example, I feel trapped by this idea that I'll never find anyone to love me for the rest of my life because my parents got divorced after almost 20 years of marriage. Yes, that makes me scared, and I have a little of each parent inside of me, but I also have the ability to put myself in the way of grace. I have a chance to start anew and grow into those parts that I think would better me and get over the fear of marriage (it's only my low self-esteem rearing its ugly head anyway). If I ever intend to join my life to someone else's, make babies with him, and grow old together, I've got to start now to replace the pieces of myself that I've given away. Some of those pieces are like new flowers, and some of them are like Ursula's poor unfortunate souls, just a fraction of what they used to be, regretting that they ever gave up any part of themselves.

But here's the good news that for some reason, I tend to forget (even though it's the single most important thing that exists): there is grace. It's right there, waiting for me to stumble over it, getting in my way every chance it gets. It just wants me to grab onto it, hug it like I would the Lu, and let it lick my face (metaphor gone awry. Sorry, I just love Luna.).

Guess what? It's yours for the taking, too. I mean, there's a small catch: you've got to stop thinking of ways to be different and let yourself remain in the stated fact that you are marvelously made from the beginning. You are already beloved, and there's nothing you can do to change it. Pick yourself up, point your wand at your heart and say, "reparo!", and get back on the broomstick (please excuse yet another metaphor gone awry. I'm in the middle of Book 6.). We were created for hilarity and our ability to recover. We might as well start today to embrace our marvelously maded-ness. It helps us to move forward, away from the the little things like "curious" text messages to that person who helped put us in the place where we were eventually forced to ask for help; OR building a relationship with someone that looks different on the outside than it does on the inside. It leaves a path of destruction where we finally hang our heads, wondering how we ended up feeling less and less beloved.

One of my favorite sayings: Build a bridge and get on over it.

Footnote: During this most recent dissertation, my friend Bill came by and asked me if I was going to Rocklahoma, an annual music festival consisting of all things 80s hair (he knows of my deep deep love for Bon Jovi AND live music). I said, "Bill, that sounds AWESOME. Where is it?" to which he replied, "Oh, I don't know, somewhere like Rooster Poot, Oklahoma."

ROOSTER POOT. OH MY HEAVENS. How hilarious that these things just fall out of his mouth.

My new favorite thing to say: Build a bridge to Rooster Poot and get on OVER it.

Baaaaaaahahahahahaha!!!!

Oh, Dave, have you been working out?